


When being stuck in a prison cell doesn't mean you can't get a boyfriend

by emilyr2546



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, Dungeon, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, I swear ill update, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Night Terrors, Sarcasm, Sharing Body Heat, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyr2546/pseuds/emilyr2546
Summary: In which Stiles and Derek both eat, sleep, and breathe sarcasm, so when they are thrown into a dungeon, sparks are bound to fly ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1st ever work! Feedback would be appreciated :)

“Well, this is a nice change of scenery.”

“It’s a prison cell.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

Stiles peered into the gloominess that had recently invaded the cell, squinting against the lack of light and the fine mist that had crept in, and leaned forward from his perch on the ratty excuse for a blanket the guards had given him to get a better look at his new cell mate.

Stiles gaze greedily took in the sight of a real, living, breathing, person, the first that he had seen since he had first been thrown into the cell around three months ago. The first thing Stiles noticed was that his new roomie was BUILT. He had to be around 6 foot 1 of pure muscle, with his ragged, falling apart clothes only serving to accentuate how fit he was. He wasn't overly built, but he wasn't lean either. When Stiles eyes eventually wandered up to the new arrivals face, he saw cool, green, almost luminescent eyes staring at him in amusement. 

They had clearly seen Stiles giving the new guy a once-over - or perhaps more accurately a twice-over.

“... Is he even human..? ” Stiles mused indistinguishably, his gaze snagging on the slight, almost imperceivable glow emitting steadily from his eyes.

"...suppose you have a name do you?” Wincing internally, Stiles quickly shook himself out of his thoughts to focus on the conversation.

“Stiles, Stiles Stilinksi.” He imparted magnanimously, a devilish grin adorning his face.

“Did you just James Bond me?” was the immediate query of the handsome-yet-still-unnamed-and-apparently-sarcastic-as-hell-twenty-fiveish-year-old.

“Got a problem?”

Stiles had at this point, started grinning like it was Christmas come early at the exciting prospect of a cell mate who apparently, had yet to have the life sucked out of him by his dreary surroundings. Stiles, thus far, had considered himself to be exactly that, sucked dry of all life via the isolation and hopelessness of his situation.

It must have been the presence of a new face, outside of the routine appearance of the guard that brought the sludge that they passed as food in this place, that snapped him out of his funk.

“Except for the fact that you STILL haven’t asked for my name, nothing, and it's Derek, since you didn't see fit to ask.” The newly anointed "Derek" growled with an almost challenging look in his eyes.

Stiles immediately ignored the underlying aggression in his words, preferring instead, to try to bring an iota of amicability into the conversation.

“Honey, it was going to be the next thing out of my mouth and may I just say, I planned on learning a lot more about you than just your name.” Stiles purred flirtatiously, grinning innocently up at Derek.

Derek flushed red at the endearment and to escape from Stiles fiery gaze, he quickly strode to the opposite side of the cell. As soon as he got there, he turned away, busying himself with cataloging the meager supplies that he was provided by their oh-so-kind captors. He grimaced at the unappealing sight of the rags they passed off as a blanket, the singular jug of water, and the oatmeal looking goop sitting in a bowl.

When his back was turned safely towards Stiles, hiding his still pink face, he rumbled “I don’t suppose that we have much else to do, huh.”

Stiles smile slid away a little at that, and when he spoke he sounded subdued as if reminded that they were, in fact, in a prison cell, captured by some of the most unscrupulous and discriminatory hunters that the earth had deigned to create.

“No, I suppose we don’t.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil bit of angst, and some cuddles. ;)

The events of that day flickered in Stiles mind as he fell asleep, the meeting of his new cell mate, the awkward flirting, and then eventually being ignored by Derek in favor of brooding grumpily in the far corner of the cell.

Stiles grimaced and rolled over as his unconscious brain conjured up darker memories. His mind rebelled against his futile wishes and returned to the horrible nightmare that he had been having reoccurringly for quite a while now. 

_A bitter taste filled his mouth, the only remnant of that night that he remembered clearly. That, and the pain that came after.  
_

_Dropping the glass that had been handed to him by a shadowed face, he clawed at his throat in agony. It wasn't a regular poison.  
_

_If it were, then Stiles magic would have fought it off easily._

_No, this was sapping the part of him that made him, HIM. It was taking away his magic._

_The horror that he felt became almost tangible, as the remnants of the trait that he had taken as granted for most of his life lashed out futilely against the woman that had fed him the poisoned concoction._

_He spat out the little that was left in his mouth, but it was too little too late._

_He collapsed onto the ground, his vision quickly blurring. As he lost consciousness, the only thing that he saw was the woman gleefully laughing over him._

_Flashes of light and sound blurred together, flashes of red and green and LOSS screamed at his unconscious mind._

_Memories came rapid fire at him, his first spell, being watched over by his mother, the death of his childhood bully by his own magic, lashing out uncontrollably at the perceived threats, the wrongness and guilt, the disappointed looks, being shipped away, the secret mastery of his magic in the woods._

_His childhood, saturated with good and bad and always, always magic._

_The bitterness returned to his tongue, a reminder of what was lost, STOLEN._

_A woman laughing and saying **"STILES!" "STILES**_ **WAKE UP!"**

__

__

_****_

__

Stiles snapped awake, sitting up from his makeshift bed to come face to face with a worried Derek. He was leaning over Stiles side to reach his face, and was now gazing at Stiles with what seemed to be understanding.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Stiles gazed at real, live, and warm, human in front of him, and crumpled. Later, Stiles would attribute, at least partially, his sudden need for contact to his forced isolation, for he had been almost entirely without a friendly face for far longer than any fully sane person had any right to.

"No, just come here."

Almost shyly, he pulled Derek into an awkward hug. It seemed as though Stiles was afraid that ~~he~~ the hug would be rejected, but after a few awkward moments of stiffness, Derek seemed to relax. Stiles quickly hid his mysteriously damp face in Dereks shoulder. After a few seconds, the tenseness that was in the other drained away and Derek slumped, almost gratefully, against Stiles.

It seemed that he needed the hug as much as Stiles did, and the knowledge made the arms, that had somehow been twined around Dereks waist, tighten.

If they woke up the next morning still tangled together, they spoke nothing of it- it was just because of the cold, right?

God forbid that he think about the newfound warmth that coiled in his belly every time he looked at Derek, and if that newfound warmth felt uncannily like magic, well, Stiles was sure it was just his imagination, and so he ignored it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know how to use italics/bold/underline on Ao3? It doesn't seem to be working for me.


End file.
